‘Hi, Pip.’
Our eyes meet and she gives me a terse smile, the laugh lines around her eyes tightening with resignation.
‘Give me a tick?’ she asks and without waiting for a reply, she rolls her case past the doorway, down the hall, and into her bedroom. There are twin thuds on the floor – Pippa kicking off her boots – and soon after, she comes back into the lounge wearing slippers.
‘Cup of tea?’ she asks, gliding past me to the kitchen.
This time I follow, perching on the lone stool by the kitchen bench and watching as she flicks on the kettle and assembles what she needs to make a pot. She even arranges half a packet of chocolate Hobnobs on a plate – my favourite.
The implication is clear – we’re settling in for the duration and, to be honest, the coward inside me is relieved she’s taking the lead.
We don’t say anything while she potters, sitting in a silence that’s both familiar and disquieting. This may be the last time we ever share a pot of tea.
When it’s ready, she loads up a tray and jerks her head towards the lounge. I follow again, my pulse quickening as the time to say my piece looms.
Especially as it’s painfully clear Pippa knows what’s coming.
She pours tea into two mugs, doctoring both with milk, then hands me the one we bought on a holiday in Cornwall a few years ago. I wonder if it’s deliberate, her choosing a souvenir of happier times. Even if it isn’t, it stings.
Pippa sips her tea, her gaze unfocused, and I watch her closely. This is when I should say something but I’m no closer to figuring out what that is than I was ten minutes ago.
‘Nick?’ she says, looking up and meeting my eye. ‘Do you think we were ever really in love?’
Of all the things I’ve imagined her saying, this didn’t even make the top one thousand.
But the answer comes easily.
‘Absolutely.’
She smiles at that, the tension around her eyes giving way to a gentle sadness, tempered with affection.
‘I know you don’t believe in signs or fate or any of that nonsense,’ she says, ‘but we were sent to two different countries and then that bloody volcano erupted.’ She slowly shakes her head. ‘It’s like the universe was trying to tell us something.’
‘I feel like you’re letting me off the hook, Pip.’
‘How so?’
‘I’ve been dragging my heels for ages now. I forced your hand.’
There’s a flash of surprise in her eyes. ‘Oh. You know about the wedding then,’ she says – a statement rather than a question.
‘Yes.’
She nods, then pointedly looks away. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ she asks, picking at the seam of the sofa cushion.
‘Why didn’tyou, Pip?’ I prod gently.
Her shoulders rise, then fall back into place. ‘I was embarrassed. It was foolish to spring it on you like that. Even Ashley said so and you know Ash.’
I do know Ashley – lovely, but Pippa’s sister tends to make questionable life choices.
‘I’m so sorry, Nick.’
‘Hey, no.’ I set down my mug and lean closer. ‘That’s what I’m trying to say – it’s not you who owesmethe apology. If anything, it’s the other way around.’
She looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. ‘Hardly,’ she scoffs.
‘Look, you’ve been beyond patient with me – you didn’t deserve to be strung along like that,’ I say, echoing what Delaney said only two days ago.